


and now we reap

by robin_hoods



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Double Penetration, Horror, Other, Sorry Not Sorry, Tentacle Rape, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 22:05:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robin_hoods/pseuds/robin_hoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not what Theon had expected to come home to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and now we reap

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year!

Theon can hardly believe he has been away from the Iron Islands for half his life, but yet here he is, becoming the man he was always meant to be. He refuses to turn his head around, to look back at the gathered crowd, come to watch the newly returned son and heir. Salt water laps around his bare toes, and he swallows, looks out towards the sea. He has no recollection of this tradition, barely even remembers the words his uncle Aeron said while he blessed him. “And now,” he'd said when he had finished pouring water over Theon's head, “let the Drowned God take you into his arms, so he knows you have truly returned, Theon, son of Pyke.”

He makes sure his steps look confident and strong as he strides forward, but the water is freezing, and he isn't wearing more than his smallclothes now. Soon, the water reaches up to his thighs, and he is glad neither his father nor his sister can see his face while his teeth chatter in his mouth, loud even in the presence of the waves splashing against him.

He doesn't entirely understand the point of 'being swallowed by the sea', as Aeron had called it. Asha had assured him (as if he had needed any assuring!) that it was only a formality, but he is starting to think this has to be a jape. They cannot be serious about this. Swimming past the furthest curve is foolish at best; if he's not careful, he could be dragged away by the current, never to be heard from again. Theon is sure Asha never had to do anything like this to appease their lord father.

The memory of his father's stern face makes him continue to step forward, though, unwilling to be confronted once more with his disappointment. When he steps out of the sea today, Balon Greyjoy's words will not be unkind. He will be proud of his son once more, proud that he's truly proven himself to be an ironborn, and-- Theon grimaces when he steps on something slimy.

He much prefers being on a boat to actually swimming, though. Obviously it's less wet (unless it's raining), but it's also safe, and while it can be cold up on deck, it's never felt like knives twisting in his bones. As long as he keeps moving, he should be okay. Tentatively he makes a few strokes with his arms and water sprays on his face. He licks the salt off his lips and thinks that he's actually missed this, being in the water. He'd forgotten so much, but he supposes being away from the sea does that to you.

And despite the rather frosty welcome, he has come home, hasn't he? He dares to look behind him, but they are mere dots now, faceless people in the distance. Like they've been for most of his life, he thinks. He wonders how long he should be out here, how much farther he should swim for it to be considered acceptable. and is just about to turn around when something cold, colder than the water, slips around his ankle.

He jerks up his leg, his arms reaching up towards the sky, desperate for something to grab onto, when he's pulled down and his nose and mouth fill with water. Something wraps around his other leg while he trashes and twists, his vision quickly darkening. Behind him, something pulls his head back by his hair, pushing up his face just above the water, and as he gulps in air he can feel _whatever it is_ creeping up his leg, a third (or maybe fourth) thing wrapping itself around his belly and chest.

He scrambles with his arms and it makes an awful sucking noise just below his ear when he tries to pull it away from him, whatever it is slippery in his hands. Before he realises what's going on, it's wrapped itself around his neck, pulling him back down into the water until he's hanging upside down, suspended in motion by the two long arm-things around his legs, and the other around his waist, making it near impossible to move.

Against the rays of light he can see more movement, not just against his body but also surrounding him, floating in the water. A burst of air escapes from his lips, speeding to the surface, and realisation strikes. These are tentacles. Frantically he looks back and forth, two left, three right, so many, and they're so... so big. He opens his mouth, and once more he can't breathe.

He coughs violently when he's brought up above the water a second time, and he's too out of breath to even consider screaming for help. The only thing he can move are his arms, and those aren't much help now when he's just trying to stay afloat, aware that every second he can be pulled back under, and maybe this time, he won't be let up again.

There's more movement below the water, but it's dark and he can't see what's going on. That doesn't mean he doesn't feel the tentacle around his right leg and the one around his middle simultaneously reaching up, and down, to the only place of him that's still covered. When one of them brushes against his cock, his body responds, his toes spreading as it almost softly moves alongside it while he feels himself harden in spite of his fear.

A tentacle slides along his backside, stretching the material of his underclothes when it slips itself inside, almost hesitantly exploring. Aghast at the intrusion, Theon squirms, but it seems to be to nus, as it just twists further inside, while the other tentacle keeps itself busy with his front. He tries to slip his fingers underneath the one below his neck, which has somehow managed to wrap itself around him twice now. It holds on tightly, however, nearly becoming one with his body.

His muscles clench when the tentacle in his smallclothes attempts to slide between his cheeks, and feels the fabric tear when it tries to find a way inside-- inside _him_. Two new tentacles join the others when they grab hold of his ankles once more, and begin to pull his legs further up, his knees bending with the speed they move at, and he knows his feet have broken through surface, air brushing against his toes.

In his surprise, he's forgotten he's held in other places as well, and before he can properly register what's going on the tentacle is not just touching his entrance, it's also entered it. He bites his lip, because it actually hurts as something too wide and large try to stretch him out from within. It's not hard at all, in fact, it feels soft, and cold. The unfamiliar sensations make his eyes water, and he tries not to, but his muscles tense up, which only seems to suck the thing further inside.

The other tentacle between his legs hasn't forgotten his cock either, and almost lazily moves around it, circling until it's almost entirely covered in muscle and suction cups. He can't stop himself from crying out now, his voice drowned out by the waves. His cry turns into a scream when his legs are stretched further apart, the tentacle inside him slithering when another joins it, probing until it finds just enough space to wiggle inside of him as well.

He's lost count of how many are touching him now, not when there are so many, and he's screamed his throat raw. No one's coming, he thinks, the only thing he can do is try to break free. Or wait it out. In the cold water, his body's gone numb, and the tears he's cried feel hot upon his cheeks. This is no jape. This is cruelty. He feels like he's about to burst out of his seams, if he had any to begin with.

Something creeps up the side of his neck, over the line of his jaw just to the corner of his mouth, and he turns his head away, exhausted. No more, he thinks. Please, no more. He can still feel the two tentacles inside him, moving alongside each other: in and out, in and out, until he can no longer feel the difference between the swelling of the sea, and that of his body.

The tentacle on his left starts to push itself through his closed mouth, moving against his teeth, until he has no choice but to open wide. Immediately, he chokes, his head disappearing under water again, while the tentacle brushes the back of his throat. He shakes his head, because he can't breathe, he can't, and his body traitorously spasms in the tentacles' grasp, hard. Theon clenches his eyes shut while his teeth and tongue scrape against salty skin in his mouth, and his body slowly comes to a halt.

The tentacles holding his ankles up let go and his legs immediately begin to fall. There's no longer anything in his mouth, nothing to hold him up, and he feels strangely empty, and naked. For a while, he floats in the water, abandoned. The sky has begun to darken, and the only reason he knows what direction to swim is because of the lights of fire in the distance.

Aside from screaming seagulls and the sounds of the sea, there is nothing else, and awkwardly he paddles forward, his legs tired and cramping with every stroke he takes. They haven't waited for him, he realises soon enough, as the beach comes closer. And why should they have, he bitterly thinks. Just another son gone. A son who is not even a son now; a son not worthy of the title heir; just a boy who has proven himself to be a pitiful excuse for a man.

Angry, at himself, at the world, he tries to swim faster, choking through bottled up sobs. He's never been so grateful to feel sand underneath his feet, and he nearly falls forward when he's found his footing, the water the only thing holding him up still. After the next few steps, he drops to his knees and crawls the rest of the way to dry sand, too exhausted to stand up.

He barely even remembers what comes next. Someone drapes a cloak over his shoulders, gives him something to wear. “Asha?” he manages to croak out, but they shush him and brush his hair out of his face. “Mother?” They shake their head, but he doesn't see.

He does not recall the journey back; his eyes are falling shut, his body aches, and he is so tired. The world is his bed and the night is his blanket. “Sleep, Theon,” he is told, “you will feel better on the morrow.”

When he wakes, he isn't sure why. The sun hasn't risen yet and he is comfortably warm. It takes a while for his eyes to get used to the darkness, and all the while, there is a steady drip of water coming from that corner of the room. Must be rain, he drowsily thinks. Pyke has always been wet; rainstorms and thunder are bright in his memories.

The dripping continues and he sighs before he closes his eyes once more.

A raindrop falls on his ear.

He blinks, and raises his head.

Something cold wraps around his ankle, and Theon screams.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the most explicit thing I've ever written -- and it's not even normal sex. P: Sorry guys. I hope you can forgive me. (I did go "oh god why did i write this" when I was editing, but um. Yeah.)


End file.
